Fighting Back

Molly was huddled in a corner of the room. He had given her enough time to get dressed again and recover a bit but it would foolish to believe it he was being nice. Trembling and terrified, she watched Malfoy's every move. He had caught her off guard but that would not happen again. She would not allow him to touch her again. Rather die fighting than let this bastard force himself on her.

Lucius was coming menacingly closer to her and Molly felt panic rise in her. He would have to kill her and play with her corpse because she would never give in to him. Getting up on wobbly knees, Molly readied herself to fight. Lucius grinned. He had been disappointed when he had been able to overpower her that easily. He wanted to cause her pain.

All of a sudden Lucius lunched forward and banged her head hard against the wall. She had no chance of escape.

Molly woke up. As she tried to move she noticed with a sudden flash of panic that she was shackled to the wall with heavy iron manacles. In front of her stood Lucius Malfoy. Molly tried unsuccessfully to fight down her panic. Lucius Malfoy saw her wide terrified eyes and smiled. He sneered down at her:

"I expect you to be a little more receptive to my advances. But here you try to fight me. Now that isn't very nice. I think you need to be punished for that."

Molly's guts turned to knots. She was more afraid than before in her life. Surely he wouldn't use violence on her, would he? Then she remembered all the stories of his cruelties in the first wizarding war and she began to tremble violently.

Lucius slapped her hard across her face. She winced and tried to jerk back. He seized her chin in his hand and rubbed his face over hers, biting at her lips. Then he drew back, leaving her face wet with saliva, and punched her in the stomach. He took a step back to survey his effect on her.

She was gasping for air and had doubled over as far as her manacles allowed. Molly had felt the violence in him. She knew she couldn't escape from him or prevent him from violating her. She also knew he would hurt her even more, given the slightest excuse. 'I must endure this and hope to appease him.'

He raised his wand and, with a big smirk on his face, cried out:

"Crucio!"

Molly writhed in pain. She couldn't help it and began screaming. The pain was excruciating. It was worse than anything she had experienced before. After what seemed like an eternity, he lifted the spell. Not giving her a minute to recover he explored her body with his hands. Molly tried to shrink back from his touch. Malfoy became angry at that and used the Cruciatus-Curse again. After lifting the curse, he tore her robes apart and grabbed her dress. He tore that apart too, sending buttons flying. He just stared at her well-seized breasts. Grabbing them in his hands, he felt her breasts, weighing and then squeezing them, and he pinched her nipples; then he ran his hand over her stomach and into the triangle of hair between her legs, bushy and curly like the hair on her head. He prodded her roughly with his fingers. She began to cry. His dick was so stiff he felt it would burst. Again he stepped back and observed her fear and agony. It was delicious. With a flick of his wand he undressed her completely. Now she stood there in all her naked glory. Another flick of his wand and a few murmured words moved the manacles on her legs apart. She fought the pull of the manacles but couldn't prevent her legs from being spread apart. She stared at him, wide-eyed with horror. It was obvious that Malfoy enjoyed her anguish. Malfoy spat on his hand then rubbed the moisture between her legs. He pushed his fingers inside her. She cried out in pain.

She couldn't endure it. She heaved and struggled, bringing up her knee and aiming for his tender parts. He began to punch her without letting go of her hair.

Then he became inventive and shoved his wand between her legs. He smiled sweetly at her and brought his mouth close to her ear.

"Crucio"

The pain was even more pronounced than before. She was screaming at the top of her voice. When he lifted the curse off her, she hang limp in the manacles. Completely exhausted. It was too much. All she wanted was peace and quiet. But Malfoy had other plans. He shoved himself inside her. With each violent shove inside her, she screamed louder and prayed to God to put her out of her misery.

----

Minerva still lay in the library-like room but all of a sudden the door opened and revealed Tom. Minerva knew what was coming but she would not give in without a fight.

Pressing her skirt down, Minerva became aware of a hard object pressed against her calve. The small dagger her father had given her was still securely tucked in her boot. The death-eaters not anticipating a muggle-style attack. She might be wandless and her magic might be blocked but she would never allow Voldemort to touch her again.

Minerva would have to wait until the last possible second, though, and she had her doubts as to whether she could control herself that long. She hated Tom for doing that to her and the mere thought of enduring that a second time made her retch.

But Minerva was strong and gifted with incredible will-power. She didn't dare let too much show on her face, but narrowed her eyes and glared at Tom as hard as she could. Which was considerable. Minerva was livid with anger.

She struggled as Tom pressed her to the ground and tried to pull up her skirt, more in order to get her hand on the dagger hilt and palm it unnoticed than in actual resistance. Tom slapped her hard across the face, ordering Minerva to be still. Her cheek burned and her eyes watered, but the dagger was now in her hand, concealed under the folds of her skirt.

Minerva lay back, breathing heavily. She concentrated on her objective, trying to erase everything else from her mind. It would have to be in the back; the quarters were too close to try for the throat.

Tom's cold fingers were digging into her thighs now, wrenching them apart. In her mind, Minerva could see her father's blunt finger stabbing at her uncle Murtagh's ribs, and hear his voice, "Here, lass, up under the lowest ribs, close to the backbone. Stab hard, upward into the kidney, and he'll drop like a stone."

It was almost time; Tom's breath was disgustingly warm on her face, and he was fumbling between my bared legs, intent on his goal.

"Take a good look, Minerva, and see how it's done. You'll be fucked by a real man, not a spineless worm like Dumbledore," he panted, "I'll have you moaning for more before ..."

Minerva whipped her left arm around his neck to hold him close; holding the knife hand high, she plunged it in as hard as she could. The shock of impact reverberated up her arm, and she nearly lost her hold on the dagger. Tom yelped and squirmed, twisting to get away. Unable to see, Minerva had aimed too high, and the knife had skittered off a rib.

She couldn't let go now. Luckily, her legs were free of the entangling skirt. Minerva wrapped them tightly around Tom's sweating hips, holding him down for the precious seconds she needed for another try. But Tom was faster. His hands grasped blindly for her wrists and, when he had found them, wrench them up over her head. Minerva was now really defenceless. And she had angered him.

Minerva had no delusions: she would pay for that.